Miracle in the Mist Read Online Free PDF Page B

stare in awe at the food. She could have sworn the table had been empty when she'd come down the ladder, and yet Clara hadn't moved from the loom in that time. So where had the food come from? She glanced at Clara, who continued weaving the seemingly never-ending swath of dark green cloth. Carrie's stomach growled, and instead of continuing to wonder where the food had come from, she sat down and dug in.
     
    ***
     
    Clara peeked over her shoulder, smiled to herself, and turned back in time to catch the shuttle and slide it easily between the threads stretched over the frame of the loom. When things started happening that the Assignments couldn't logically explain, they looked so puzzled and surprised. Clara loved that. Just as she loved watching that puzzlement and surprise turn to wonder and then, eventually, to calm acceptance. Her breakfast was only the first of many things in Renaissance that Carrie would question, but have to come to accept.
    Such a sweet thing this Carrie was, Clara thought. But, unfortunately, Emanuel was right. Carrie had no idea who she was or what she was, and it had nothing to do with her amnesia. It had to do with losing her soul, her courage, and her inner strength. Little did she know, her soul wasn't entirely lost. Just misplaced. And God willing, Clara would help her put herself together again into the wonderful woman she was before—well, before her life went sour.
    Clara caught the shuttle and laid it aside. Glancing out the window toward the babbling stream that ran alongside the pathway and then made a sharp right turn to pass behind her cottage, she smiled and gave a faint nod. It was time for Carrie's first memory to return. She turned to Carrie, who had just finished the last bite of her breakfast and was gathering her dishes to take them to the washbasin on the table beside the sink.
    "Leave them, dear. I'll see to them shortly. You've more important things that need your attention." She rose and went to Carrie. Laying a hand on her shoulder, she motioned with the other at the window overlooking the backyard. "I think you might want to take a walk outside. Perhaps to that large rock beside the water. I like to go out there sometimes when things become too heavy for my mind to bear. It helps me to put order to my thoughts."
    Carrie paused in the midst of stacking the mug on the plate and starred at Clara with confused eyes. "But—"
    "Shush. I'll not have an argument. Now, off with you," Clara said softly, and after urging the young woman to her feet, she guided her out the back door.
     
    ***
     
    Carrie stepped off the stone steps onto the cushiony grass. A few feet away, the clearest water she'd ever seen gurgled and babbled its way zealously over various size rocks as it cut a zigzag path through the green lawn. Beneath the surface Carrie could see silvery fish swimming about. Occasionally, one would leap from the water and snare an unsuspecting insect, then drop back with a splash.
    Along the path that ran adjacent to the stream, a well-tended flower bed teeming with a rainbow of blossoms spilled a myriad of sweet scents into the breeze and enticed dozens of bees and butterflies to savor the treats hidden within their colorful petals. Leaving the insects to their busy work, she strolled along the water's edge until she came to the large rock Clara had mentioned. With a sigh, she lowered herself to it and dug her bare toes into the sun-warmed, damp grass.
    As she stared into the moving water, Carrie shook her head. How could she remember the insects' names—bumblebee, monarch butterfly, dragonfly—but she only knew her own name because of a slip of paper she'd found in her pocket? She didn't even know for sure that it was her name. But for the time being and until she found out differently, she was willing to be Carrie.
    Unconsciously shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her skirt, she felt something small and smooth. Hesitantly, she drew it out and stared down at it.